


All You Wanna Do

by steviesfreckles



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Jace Wayland, Consensual Underage Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Jace is stupid, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Simon is along for the ride, angsty, emotionally damaged Jace wayland, everything for the first three parts Jace is under 18, izzy is the best, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steviesfreckles/pseuds/steviesfreckles
Summary: Jace has been looked at and desired all his life. It's easy to exude sex and arrogance when that's all he's ever been good for. When someone comes along who doesn't want anything but whatever Jace willing to offer him, instead of demanding things, how could he not fall in love?~~~~~He stood, dazed and surprised. “I don't know how I feel though.”Izzy scoffed at him and turned back up the steps. “Jace, look inwards, not backwards. History doesn’t hold the answers.”
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Jace Wayland/Original Female Character(s), Jace Wayland/Original Male Character(s), Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland
Comments: 18
Kudos: 156





	All You Wanna Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krit/gifts), [sabby1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabby1/gifts).



> Shout out to sabby1 for being my betta and spending two whole hours helping me edit and fix. You're amazing and I'm forever in your debt. 
> 
> Also to krit for being a tride and true helper and putting the song "All You Wanna Do" by Six the Musical up as a writing prompt for Jimon. This one's for you.

The black lacquer and ivory lengths gleamed beneath Jace’s fingers. His hands weren’t yet long or elegant, he was still learning how to manipulate the keys to sing whatever melodies were printed on his pages. His instructor was a girl from the Vancouver Institute who was staying for a handful of months to use the library while she tracked a demon on her first solo mission. She was 17 and gave Jace the attention he needed in the middle of adjusting to life where he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder expecting to be starved or beaten as punishment. 

He liked that her hands lingered on his back when she corrected his posture or leaned in close enough that he could smell grapefruit and something a bit sharper emanating from her skin. When she smiled at him, he felt as though he were the only thing in the world worth looking at. 

It didn't take Jace long to figure out what she wanted. He knew he was handsome, he knew he looked older than he was, and while he didn’t care about her teachings in dynamics and how to strike just the right chord with women, he spent hours with her anyways. It was easy, Jace supposed, to kiss her like she asked him to, to study the give and take that occurred not just between him and the piano, but him and her. 

Everyone in his life spent all their time telling him how grown up he acted and how handsome he looked. This time with her taught him more than how to please and play, but also what it meant when someone looked at him with a smile and a lingering touch. People that came into his life wanted something from him, and if they said they didn’t, it was certainly a lie. 

It was easy to offer what his teacher wanted, she was only a few years older than him, and patient enough to deal with his mistakes in exchange for his pretty face. Jace grew to enjoy it, suddenly realizing the ability he held in his grasp. She wanted and he was in a position to indulge or deny her. Being powerful for the first time in his life, being in control, made him drunk off possibility. 

Like every addiction, Jace needed to be around her to thrive, to be in the right state of mind, although nothing lasts forever. He learned to hit the keys just right, his fingers lengthening and falling into their natural dexterity as he grew up, and she left him, portaling north to chase the beast she was after. 

It would have been easier if her absence had broken his heart. It did more damage than that, shattering his perception of love, or being valued and appreciated. Jace needed to command the attention of a room, to exude sex and charisma to feed his never ending cycle of desire. He had thought she might have been different, that maybe she believed he was worth more than being tossed away after she had gotten what she wanted from him. 

Oh god, wouldn’t it have been better if he had loved her. 

&&&&&

  
  


Violet and green flashed around him and bass thundered in his chest. Jace had just turned 15 last week. It wasn't difficult for him to slip between the cracks though, as a shadowhunter and the way his cheekbones angled themselves, he found himself being treated by all sorts of people in all sorts of places. 

Those in Jace’s life had come to coo over him, doting, and he had come to need it, a survival mechanism of sorts. He bathed in the attention. Jace was on a mission but it didn’t stop the glances and desire thrown his way. It didn’t stop him from relaxing back against the wall, the leather and ripped denim making him look like he was meant to be there, like he was meant to be devoured and to devour in kind. 

Jace let his eyes scan the room, looking for what exactly he wasn't sure. It was a surveillance mission, trying to find signs of demon activity in Brooklyn. Something strange caught his attention but it wasn't demonic.  _ Well _ , he thought,  _ it’s only half demonic _ . 

A seelie met his eye from across the club, cold and slow in his movements, but no less graceful than his flouncing relatives. Jace could taste the beckoning in his gaze and he wanted to give into it more than anything. He pushed off the wall to make his way over when Alec appeared and caught his arm, “Jace we gotta go. Mom is calling us back to the institute.” 

Jace sighed and diverted course towards the door. As he did, he tossed a smirk back over his shoulder to where he could still feel the seelie burning his skin with the intensity of his want. It was as it always was. People looked at Jace and wanted him, and he couldn’t help but fall into the role he was so clearly made for. 

  
  


&&&&&

  
  


It was simple, this thing. To be who he was expected to be, to exude sex and appeal in his posture and each step he took. When Jace got his first taste of freedom, of choosing to be pursued and to pursue in turn, he was 17; Still young and fresh, but old enough to understand how things worked, to not be a blushing virgin at the sight of bare skin. 

A dignitary from Idris, a man of 24 with a serious face and a stiff, yet soft sort of grace to his movements. He was handsome and Jace couldn't resist volunteering to train under him. Maryse was blind to the infatuation, and could only commend him for being so studious, for listening to her when she had told him that experience from a book was just as valuable as experience with a blade in hand. 

And did he ever learn. Charlie was hard on him, taking him to the mat in the training room every morning for an hour or two, letting Jace flutter his lashes up at him until the serious exterior began to soften under the subtle flirtation. He made Jace study and read and seal envelopes that had to get sent to Alicante. The first night, Jace fell asleep with a cramp in his hand but a man on his mind, and he'd be damned if that man didn't sink his teeth into him one way or another. 

Weeks passed and soon enough, Jace's predictions fell true. Being chased after was half the fun. Charlie kept him back in the guest’s office, pinning him to every surface he could. There was nothing that made Jace feel more worthy than panting breaths pressed to his bare skin and hands that gripped him with bruising strength. This time, every mark was made because he was wanted, because he was good enough, not because he should have been thrown out, like his father had reminded him so often. Every hot kiss and aching thrust was telling him that he was perfect, desired, valued. 

He knew it wasn't right, but how could he ever turn down the opportunity to feel something? Alec sometimes looked at him with gentle consideration, and Jace could almost taste the question on his lips,  _ how are you this numb? _ He found value where he could grasp at it, clutch it, hold it close, long after Charlie had finished and pushed him out the door, his shirt still bundled in his arms. If Jace cried in bed alone, no one had to know. 

Months passed, their little routine of using and being used nearly old hat. Jace would have grown bored if not for the uncharacteristic growling and expression that graced Charlie’s face every time Jace had clenched just right, sucked a mark into the right patch of skin. Still, he had to leave, portaling back to Idris without so much as a backwards glance. 

Jace wished he were surprised that when he took his fists to the punching bag after evening patrol, a few stray tears escaped across his face. He scrubbed at his cheeks, brows pinched and eyes narrowed, and threw punch after punch until his knuckles bled. 

Oh god, wouldn’t it have been better if he had loved him. 

&&&

Jace was sure fire in his distaste for love by now. Twenty years old and his scraped up heart no longer a consideration after being locked away years ago. It was too much to ask him to feel anything but adrenaline and desire. It was teasing, Jace knew, when Alec would poke fun at his apparent lack of depth, and he would scoff and tease right back about how Alec never got laid at all. It worked. It diverted well enough that no one gave it a second thought, just parabatai teasing and exaggerating. 

They weren't.

It was another mission. Another demon to kill. A club, some lights, fiery red hair, and the Sight. This girl was the sun, and Jace was helpless against the pull in his gut, the want that ran through his veins. Her stubbornness yanked on him all the more. She was small and fierce and he wanted to fuck her. To sleep with her and sort himself out so he could move on with his life. 

She came to the institute with them, knocked out and head lolling. She was light in his arms. It took him only a few weeks to take her to bed. She too, looked at him with lust and want, but she was kind and soft and told him that she loved him with every cell in her body. He looked at her and and told her that he loved the intensity, the realness in her eyes. 

They found each other’s mouths in every alcove in the institute; every room with a bed was theirs for the taking, and not once did he ever wonder if she really meant it when she said she loved him. Manipulation was what it was. He had said it and not meant it any number of times to get what he was after. 

She wanted something different though, a fighter, a warrior in her corner to take the hits and spit blood from his mouth only to get up and keep going to get her what she wanted. Jace didn’t blame her for it, though. He chased emotion, feeling, punishment, anything at all, so how could he hate her for using what he offered so willingly? She would flutter her eyelashes at him, run her hand along the hem of his shirt, and stand bare before him so he would bleed and break for her. 

_ It was the worst kind of being used _ , he thought to himself every so often, at least when you fuck it was over in a moment, but gashes left scars and broken bones ached in the winter. It didn’t matter, though. He didn't love her, and when he laid in bed, eyes closed and wishing for something other than nightmares, his thoughts never strayed to anything but the desperate hope of something else, something that didn't leave him numb. 

It was easy for her to leave him behind. A brother and sister. He wanted his heart to cry for her, to want her back. He couldn’t find it in himself to be anything other than relieved. 

  
  


Oh god, wouldn’t it have been better if he had loved her. 

  
  


&&&&

Clary had brought someone else toppling into Jace’s life. A man. The only thing that separated them was every opposing force the world could throw between them. Simon, his name was, an annoying jewish boy who couldn’t shut up if his life depended on it, and it _ had  _ several times in Jace’s experience. He was scruffy and soft around the edges, like a photo that had faded after years in the sun. 

Jace hated him. 

Simon hated him right back. 

How easy it was to be bitter, to hate and be angry at the world, to direct it at someone who didn’t deserve wrath and rage. It was underlying, so deep Jace wouldn’t ever admit it, but he was thankful for the raggedy boy that tottered around after Clary like a lost dog. It was a relief to feel something so strongly. Never had he been struck with something so real. 

Every rescue mission, every check in with the infirmary nurse, every late night and grave that was clawed open, every drop of blood, and ray of sun, Jace shifted. He didn’t notice it, nor did those around him. He would drop dead before he let the gruffness and harsh corners ease with the other man.

It was Jace’s birthday and he sat alone at the bar of The Hunter’s Moon. It was one of the few things he was thankful for, that his siblings knew him well enough to let him have this time, this day, to himself. 

“Hey,” 

Sweet fuck. 

“Jace, what are you doing here by yourself? Is Alec in the bathroom or something?” Simon had once again blundered into his life and fallen face first into Jace’s very shallow pool of patience. 

“ _ Yeah, Simon. _ ” Jace let the bite in his voice ring through. “I’m sitting alone at the bar with only one glass  _ because there’s someone else here.”  _ He glared into his glass.

Simon held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry man, you’re just not usually alone.” He turned away muttering something under his breath. 

Jace huffed at him. “I don't speak Mumble, Simon.” The vampire flushed around the edges, not quite a full blush, but enough to tell Jace that he hadn’t really intended for him to catch the last bit. “Come on, Vampire, spit it out.”

“I  _ said _ I didn’t think that you could be alone. You're so cool I guess- I dunno.” He trailed off again, shrugging his shoulders. 

Jace hadn’t often tasted the bitterness of regret, but this time it struck with a vengeance, saturating his tongue and running down his spine. 

Jace’s voice was small but still rough. “Thanks Simon.” 

The man in question turned to him with wide eyes, the gratefulness unexpected. 

“Yeah, of course man.” Simon sat beside him, hesitant, and Jace wanted to curse at himself. 

It felt dirty to be angry with someone who didn't have a mean bone in their body. What felt good was to actually be able to feel something for once in his life. He refused to be outright, but kindness came in more than one form, he knew. He was Alec’s parabatai after all. 

Jace flagged down Maia. “Hey, can I get a pint of O neg?” 

She gave him a funny look but poured one for him nonetheless. He took it from her and slid it to Simon. 

Another funny look was passed his way.

“What? You were blushing like an idiot earlier and it looked pretty half assed. I thought you could use something to drink.” Jace pushed the nonchalance into his voice and kept his eyes focused on the knotted wood of the bar. It was easier than watching the grin light up Simon's face. It was easier than seeing joy that so often passed him by. How was it that he could only be valued when he was doing something for someone else? 

  
  


&&&

  
  


Weeks passed and Simon had appeared more often than not where Jace was concerned. It was strange to see him pop up, always with a smile and softly asking how Jace had been doing. He couldn't shut off the brusk responses, but it didn’t seem to bother Simon anymore, just offering a fond look and continuing to chatter about nothing in particular. 

Soon it became a comfort, the endless white noise that followed Jace wherever he went. It drowned out the hurt, the numbness. It made the world bearable. Shifting into sleep beneath the blanket on Simon’s couch wasn’t a task to accomplish when the vampire in question was slouched in the chair a few feet away, chattering over the din of whatever mundane movie was playing. 

Jace wasn’t sure how he came to be spending time with Simon, being more kind and less harsh. Fridays were their night, it seemed, whether it was going to the bar or staying in to play gorey video games that Jace was slowly starting to enjoy or trying to stay awake through a nerd movie that Simon had picked out. 

Tonight, they were back at the Hunter’s moon like they had been months before, Simon talking and Jace butting in when he needed to offer his thoughts. The back and forth was so natural he hardly registered what Simon had said to him before he flicked his head up, confused. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I just...” Simon broke off with a sheepish expression on his face. “I guess, you’re handsome and suave and stuff, and I kinda want to know how you do it.” 

Jace raised an eyebrow at him, smirking, and kept quiet. 

“It's just that...” Simon cut himself off again and groaned. “Would you stop making that face at me? I’m not like you Mr. I-Can-Flirt-With-Anyone.” 

Jace shrugged and turned back to his drink. “I don't know what to tell you. It’s a gift.” He laughed at himself and hoped Simon couldn’t hear the self deprecation that curled the edges. 

He almost would have thought that he had gotten away with it, if there wasn't a certain sort of softness in Simon’s next words. 

“Teach me?” 

It was a simple enough request but Jace had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. He wasn't a teacher. He didn’t have enough patience or kindness to do it, and he doubted that those qualities had suddenly sprung up in him, uninvited. 

Jace sighed. “Alright.” 

Simon visibly perked up. “Wait for real? I didn’t think you would say yes, but-” 

Jace cut him off in hopes that he could escape the runaway train of thought that was sure to follow. “Students are supposed to listen, now be quiet before I change my mind.” 

His words were sharp but the undercurrent of mirth was strong enough to catch Simon on its riptide and he smiled at Jace. 

“What  _ do  _ you know? Why don't we start with that?” 

The question was posed simply enough, but Simon fell into a stuttering mess as he tried to answer. 

“W-what do you- you want me to- I’m sorry what? You want me to- to flirt with you- to show you what I know, here? Like, flirt with you in front of all these people?” 

Jace was certain that if Simon had a blood pressure it would be through the roof by now. 

He just smirked. “Dazzle me.” 

Simon shook his head, tossed back the rest of his drink, and laughed nervously. “Alright here we go,” he said it so quietly, Jace assumed Simon had said it more for himself than anything. 

He shuffled around, adjusting and letting his hands flutter nervously. He laid out the dorkiest James-Bond-style introduction that Jace had ever seen. Not that he’d seen many, but he and Simon had marathoned the movies earlier that week. Simon smiled up at him, a nervous, anticipatory smile on his face. 

Something inside Jace softened at the delight on his vampire’s face. Before it could spread much farther, he leaned in, sultry and dark. 

“Your expression makes it look like you have to shit.” 

Simon processed his tone before the words and he watched delight shift to an actual pout, the frown taking over his expression. It was almost worth crushing his flirting image to get to see the huffy frown pulling at his lips. 

“Just, stop with the rambling, and the big smiles, and the,” Jace gestured vaguely, “whole laying your cards on the table thing.” He hoped his face wasn't as telling as he thought it was. 

“What?” Simon asked, sounding offended. “Just stop being me?” 

Jace shuffled around and shrugged. “Yeah kinda. Just, let me show you.” 

He closed his eyes and reset his face, schooling it into something neutral. Jace sidled up to Simon and rested his hand on the small of his back. “Hey,” he let his voice take on a rough undertone and pulled closer into the other man’s personal space. It was too easy, he reflected, to do this with Simon, someone whom he tugged back and forth in a love-hate relationship. 

“When you do it, it has to be confident. You have to  _ know _ you're going to go home with them by the end of the night, and you have to act like it.” He gave a little smile and proffered the hand not on Simon’s back. 

“Just read the signs,” he whispered in Simon’s ear, letting the words curve and slide. 

Jace abruptly stilled. This was too hard and too easy all at once, too much at stake when he shouldn't,  _ didn't, _ care. Why did it feel like it mattered? It had never been like this for him. The teasing sighs, the bedroom eyes, all of it had been honed into a skill. Nothing could have shaken him. Something about this felt decidedly  _ wrong.  _

Jace jerked away and yanked out his phone. “Alec texted,” he spat mechanically. “I have to go.” And with those as his parting words, he was gone. 

As he passed through the doorway, he caught a sight in the mirror behind the bar: Simon standing abandoned at the bar, looking devastatingly hurt and confused. 

  
  


&&&

  
  


Jace ran, pushed, and panted, not bothering to activate his runes. The Institute was a handful of blocks away, and he sprinted all of them, letting the confusion and hurt fuel his strides. He came to a stop on the stone steps and stared up at the stained glass angel.  _ What is happening?  _ he asked Raziel. 

The wooden doors swung outwards, and Isabelle swept into the night air. Jace could barely string together a sentence let alone figure out how to ask how Izzy had known he would be piled in a scrambled mess on the stoop. 

She took in his ragged breathing and startled look before letting a sad and knowing laugh escape her lips. “Alec said you might need me.” 

She scooped him into her arms and he curled into her. She never asked anything of him, never wanted him to be something or do something for her. Isabelle loved him, no holds barred and god, how he needed it. 

“Jace, brother,” her voice crept into his mind, “what happened?” 

The question was simple enough. He focused for a moment on slowing his breathing, taking deep shuddering breaths in through his nose and blowing them out through his mouth. 

“Simon,” was all he managed to get out before Isabelle was clutching him tighter to her chest. 

“Did he break up with you?” She spat the words like they were foul. “I'll snap his little vampire neck.” She softened, running her fingers through his hair. “But I know how much you love him.” 

Jace made a confused noise. “I...” He paused, troubled and bewildered. “I'm not dating Simon.”

“What?” Iz looked down at him, dumbfounded. 

“I'm not dating Simon?” The words were a statement but his voice asked the question all on it's own. 

“Well then what the fuck happened?” His sister was clearly agitated. 

He explained the night and, with a little prompting, he layed out the rest of the past few months for her, all the odd looks and begrudging kindness. The more he talked, the more she looked at him like he was a pitiful idiot. 

“Jace Lightwood,” she said when he had finished, “you are an absolute moron.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Isabelle had always been gentle when he was feeling something, anything at all really. Jace was startled by the change of pace. 

“Jace.” Her voice was kind once again. “You love him. He loves you.” 

“But they always want something, he  _ must _ want something.” 

Jace felt sick at the desperation and confusion in his voice. It burned his throat like bile but he couldn't keep it from escaping.  _ No one _ wanted him just because it was him. Panic began to well up in his chest.

“Hey, hey now.” Izzy pushed his hair out of his face and held his head in her hands. “Deep breaths and listen to what I am about to ask you. Has Simon ever wanted something from you?” At Jace’s hesitation she pressed on, “Jace, the only thing he’s ever wanted is your friendship, your love. He doesn't see you as some sort of sick human vending machine that he puts shitty movie nights in and gets free sex from.” 

Jace went stiff and Isabelle looked at him, confused. 

“You mean, you haven’t...” She trailed off and Jace shook his head mechanically. “Have you with anyone since you...” He shook his head again. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Jace, I am telling you this because it’s vital to you keeping your boy, not because I care about you having sex, but you need to get off my lap and go get him.” 

Jace froze as Izzy pushed him up. 

“Go and tell him how you feel,” Isabelle prodded him. 

He stood, dazed and surprised. “I  _ don't  _ know how I feel though.” 

Izzy scoffed at him and turned back up the steps. “Jace,  _ look inwards _ , not backwards. History doesn’t hold the answers.” 

&&&&

Her parting words haunted him as he wandered through Brooklyn. He knew she was right, she always was when it came to things like this. Everyone who had touched, had looked at him, had been chasing after something. They had wanted his body, his protection, his services. Why would Simon Lewis be any different? 

Jace practically jerked at his own thoughts. Simon was different in every way. Kind, gentle, never asking him for anything more than to stay a little longer, to spend a little more time. He wanted  _ Jace. _

With that, he took off, his stupor fading faster than his fear of what terrible thing might come next. He didn’t slow his pace as he pulled out his stele and activated his runes this time, needing to find Simon. Jace tore down the streets, hanging a hard left and bursting into The Hunter’s Moon. 

He whipped around, looking for a mop of brown curls. 

Maia caught his eye. “He left a few minutes ago, headed home I think. You might be able to catch him if you hurry.” 

Jace didn't wait to hear anymore and peeled out of the bar, running east on Prospect Ave. It was just after three and, for once, Jace was thankful for being out so late. There was only one tall brunette shuffling dejectedly down the street. 

“Simon,” Jace called, “Simon, wait.” 

The vampire turned so fast Jace nearly worried he’d given himself whiplash. “Jace?” the question burned in the night air. “What are you doing here?”

“I was stupid.” He was panting but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I had no idea about me or about you and no one has ever wanted to be around me just because it’s me. They always want something, but you never did.” He stepped in close, hoping he wouldn't be pushed away. 

Simon curled a hand around his neck and looked at him softly as he brought their foreheads together. “That’s not true, actually,” he whispered. 

Jace went stiff, his heart breaking. All the defenses he had created were nothing in the face of this. What had he missed? His mind began to race, turning over all the days they had spent, searching for something. He didn’t know what Simon had taken from him. 

Simon tugged him closer. “I want your time, your affection. I don't want Jace Herondale, savior of the shadow world, or Jace Morgenstern, biggest, baddest warrior to ever grace the earth, or even Jace Lightwood, shining golden boy.”

Confusion touched down, stirring his stomach into a flurry. Simon was playing both sides of one coin, wanting him, but denying every aspect of who he was. If he didn’t want all of it, then what was he after?

“I want just Jace, the man who says he hates Star Wars but hasn’t once fallen asleep during the movie marathons I put on. I want the man that always gives me the last handful of popcorn because he knows I like the half popped kernels and who hogs the blankets when he pretends it's too late for him to go home just so he can get a home cooked breakfast from me in the morning. I want every second of your time and every bit of whatever love you have buried in that heart you keep locked up.”

The racing in Jace’s heart eased. Simon wanted, nothing really, nothing that Jace hadn’t already given him willingly, with all the strings attached. 

“Simon, I can't promise you anything easy.” Jace hesitated, fearful once again of not being enough, of being too much. “But I can give you all of me: Jace Herondale, Jace Morgestern, Jace Lightwood, and just Jace too. I can give you my coffee when you forget yours and it goes cold. I can give you new socks when yours get holes because you never remember to buy new ones. I can give you my heart, in all it's boxed up, fenced in glory. I can give you all my good days, when I’m on top of the world, and all my bad days, when I can hardly get out of bed. I can’t give you anything more or less than myself.” 

Simon leaned forward, sharing Jace’s breath for just a second, hesitating,  _ asking, _ not taking, never laying claim or demanding or imposing his wants. 

Jace felt some of his defences fall, crumbling in the face of  _ giving. _ For a moment, he wondered why Simon was shaking before he realized that it was him.  _ He _ was the one who was trembling. 

When they kissed, it wasn’t sparks or fireworks or explosions. It was coming home and sleepy mornings and dancing around the kitchen in your pajamas. Their mouths slid together and Simon ran his tongue along the seam of his lips, and  _ oh god,  _ Jace never wanted this to end. He had never felt so much irrevocable need in his life. Simon kissed him like there was nothing on this earth that he would rather be doing. He held Jace like  _ he mattered,  _ like he was  _ worthy. _

They broke apart, breathing hard but so, so at peace. 

Simon gave him a little smile and quirked an eyebrow. “So, now that I get to keep you, you wanna come home with me and snuggle while we watch movies?” His voice was teasing but pliable, ever offering and never implying. 

“You...” Jace had never felt more unsure in his life. “You want to go to your place and watch movies? Nothing else?” 

He lived his life in self-assured cockiness and this uncertainty left him unsteady where he was usually sure-footed. Izzy would tell him that it was good for him. 

“Yes.” 

It was worded as a statement but the way it curved up at the end told Jace that his offer, because that was what it was,  _ an offer, _ had no hidden meaning. Simon wanted to drag Jace back home so he could steal his body heat and curl into his chest. 

“Yeah,” he said, no hesitation. “I would really like that.” 

For the first time in his life, Jace smiled soft and slow, nothing arrogant or haughty about it. And as their hands found each other, they wandered home. 

  
  



End file.
